Springfield daily republic. [volume] (Springfield, O. [Ohio]) 1887-1888, 1887-08-08
4 MODEL MILLIONAIRE.

IA being IA charming fellow. Romance is
the privilege ~ the rich. not the profession
of the unemployed Tie poor should be
practical and prosaiC. IL is better to have
"A permanent income than to be fascina-
ting, These are the great truths of mod
ern life which Hughie Erskine never
realized. Poor Hughie! intellectually
we must admit, he WAS not of much lmpor-
tanCe. lie never said either a brilliant or
AN i'll natured thing i'll his life But then
he was wonderfully good looking, with
his crisp brown hair, his clear cut profile,
and his gray eyes. He was as popular
| with men as he was with women, and he
had every accomplishment except that of
making money. His father had be-
queathed him his cavalry sword and a
History of the Peninsulsr War in fifteen
volumes. Hughie hung the first over his
looking glass, put the second on shelf
between Ruff's Guide and Baily's Maya
zine, and lived on f20 year, that an old
aunt allowed him. He had tried every
thing. He had gone on the stock exchange
for six months: but what was butterfly
To do among bulls and bears, He had
been tea merchant sor a little longer,
but had soon tired of Pekoe and Sou
chong. Then he had tried selling dry
sherry. That did not answer. Ultimately
he became nothing, Il delightful, Intellectual
| Young mau with n perfect profile and no
| profession.
To make matters worse he was in love.
The girl he loved was Laura Merton. the
daughter of a retired colonel who had lost
his temper and his digestion in India, and
had never found either of them again.
! Laura adored him, and he WAS ready 10
| kiss her shoestrings. They were the
| handsomest couple in London, and had
| not a penny piece between them. The
! colonel was very fond Of Hughie, but
would not hear of any engagement.
Come to me, my boy, when you have
| got so. 900 of your own. and We will see
about ii, " he used Ia say: and Hughie
| looked very ,Num on these days, and had
to go TO Laura for consolation.
One morning, rs he was on his way to
Holland Park, where the Mertons lived
he dropped in TO see great friend of his,
Alan Trevor. Trevor WAS a painter. In
deed, few people escape that nowadays.
But he was also an artist, and artists are
rather rare. Personally he was strange
rough fellow, with IA freckled face and
red hair However, when he took up the
brush he WAS a real master, and his
had been very much attracted by Hughie,
at first, it must be acknowledged, ell
tirely on account of his good looks. The
only people a painter should know" he
used 10 say, are people who are bette and
beautiful. people who are an artistic
pleasure to look at and an intellectual re
pose 10 talk to Dandies ami darlings
rule the worldn' However. after he got
to know Hughe better. he liked him quite
As much for his bright, buoyant spirits
and his generous, reckless nature, and
had given him the permanent entree TO
his studio
When Hughie came in he found Trevor
putting the finishing touches TO a wonder
full life size picture Of a beggar man. The
heggar himself was standing On raised
platform in corner of the studio. He
was a wizened old man, with a face like
wrinkled parchment, and most piteous
expression. Over his shoulders was flung
a coarse brown CLOAK, all tears and tat
tiers: his thick boots were patched and
cobbled and with one hand he leaned on
a rough stick, while with the other he
held out his battered hat for aims.
What an amazing model whispered
Hughie. as he shook hands with his friend.
AN amazing models shouted Trevor
at the top of his voice; Il should think
so. Such beggars as he are not to be met
with every day. A trouvaille, mon cher:
a living Velasquezl Ny stars, what an
etching Rembrandt would have made OF
himr'
Poor old chapr' said Hughie, '.how
miserable he looks, But l suppose, 10
you painters, his face is his fortune.''
Certainly" replied Trevor; ''you
don't want = beggar TO look happy, do
you'''
How much does a model get for sit
tings" asked Hughie, as he found himself
a comfortable seat on divan.
"A shilling an hour"
s'And how much do you get for your
picture, Alan''
30, for this get a thousand.
Pounds
'.Guineas. Painters. poets and physi
clans always get guineas." ."
well, think the model should have a
percentage" said Hughie, laughing;
''they work quite as hard as you do"
Nonsense, nonsense. Why. look at the
trouble of laying on the paint alone, and
standing all day long at ones easel, It's
all very well, Hughie, for you to talk, but
l assure you that there are moments
when art approaches the dignity Of man
ual labor. But you mustn't chatter; I'm
very busy. Smoke a cigarette and keep
quiet"
After some time the servant came in
and told Trevor that the frame maker
wanted to speak to him.
Don't run away. Hughie," he said, as
he went out. Il will be back in a mo-
ment"
The old beggar man took advantage OF
Trevor's absence to rest for a moment on
a wooden bench that was behind him. He
looked so forlorn and wretched that
Hughie could not help pitying him, and
he felt in his pockets to see what money
he had All he could find was a sovereign
and some coppers. Poor old fellow, he
thought to himself, ''he wants it more
than do, but it means no hansoms for
fortnight" and he walked across the
studio and slipped the sovereign into the
beggur's hand.
The old man started, and faint smile
fitted across his withered lips. THANK
you, SIR he said in a foreign accent.
Then Trevor arrived, and Hughie took
his leave, blushing little at what he had
done He spent the day with Laura, got
q charming scolding for his extravaganza,
and had Ia walk home.
That night he strolled into the Palette
club about IL O'Clock. and found Trevor
sitting by himself in the smoking room
drinking hook and seltzer.
'Well, Alan, did you get the picture
finished all right:' he said, as he Lit his
cigarette
FINISHED and framed, my boyr' an
swered Trevor, '.and, by the by, you have
made a conquest. That old model you
saw is quite devoted to you. l had TO tell
him all about you-who you are, where
you live, what your income is what pros
poets You have'-
"My dear Alan cried Hughie, Il shall
probably find him waiting for me when
20 home. But Of course you are only
ioking. Poor old beggarl wish could
| do something for him. think it is dread
full that any one should be SO miserable
have got heaps Of old clothes at home
| do YOU think he would care for any OF